Impudence
by spamightwrite
Summary: Hideo Itami steals Tyler Breeze's phone after a house show to mess with him. On way more levels than Tyler expected. Itabreeze.


Okay, so Hideo Itami wasn't _quite_ as ugly as Tyler Breeze insisted, over and over. There was something oddly alluring about the way he stared Tyler down from across the ring. How he mocked him on social media and when he'd gotten the upper hand, imitating his pose on the top rope and smoothing his hair with a contemptuous glower.

And he was in great shape. Maybe not quite as carefully defined as Tyler's body, but Hideo wasn't a _model_. The fact that his hair looked perfect even when messy was besides the point. And so was the depth of experience and determination reflected in his dark eyes. And he supposed he was a worthy opponent.

But it wasn't as if Tyler _liked_ him. They were both gunning for the same prize, and Tyler always looked way better doing it, anyway. Notwithstanding how could he like anyone who kicked him in his gorgeous face repeatedly, without remorse?

Someone who absconded with his phone after a house show match? His _phone_! Sure, the loss stung his ego, but nothing like the shame of getting his most prized possession taken right out from under his nose. He took _selfies_ with that phone!

How dare he.

And then Hideo had the nerve to use that phone to post his own selfie on Twitter. Plastering his uggo face all over the internet, for the whole world to see. And of course he wouldn't have known about that if Solomon Crowe hadn't shown him from his own phone – cackling hysterically, no less.

Oh, Hideo would pay for that. For sure.

Tyler stomped about backstage following that revelation, searching high and low for his opponent or his phone, or perhaps both if he was lucky. Two birds with one stone.

Unfortunately he was only able to find the phone at the outset. It sat alone on the bench in the locker room, woefully naked of its feathered selfie stick, looking rather sad. Tyler snatched it up immediately and gave it a comforting couple of pets, mumbling that he'd be okay now, his prince had arrived.

He inspected it for any damage and found none on the surface. But he expected that wouldn't be it. Hideo was insolent enough to play even further with Tyler's emotions. He unlocked the phone and prepared himself for whatever horrors might await him.

Of course, there were a couple of very rudely-taken selfies. One mocking his signature look – which was _copyrighted_ , he should know – and another making some stupid uggo expression. Did he want him to get indigestion? The little twerp. He flipped through a few blurry shots most likely taken on accident, and then stopped dead when... _that_... came into view.

It was another selfie, also of Hideo, but... this one taken in the locker room mirror. It contained his full body, still in his ring gear, but one hand pulling down his trunks. Good God, he could see _everything_ , the dark hair that started in a thin line on his stomach, all of his... parts, the fact that he was uncircumcised. And there was the most enigmatic little smirk on his lips as he showed himself off for the camera.

 _Christ_. Mother of God. That had to be a mistake, right? Or some kind of sick joke. There was absolutely no way Hideo Itami had left a sexy picture on Tyler's phone for any serious reason. They _hated_ each other. There was no respect between them. Who in the hell did he think he was?

Cheeky.

Devious.

Surprisingly attractive.

"Fuck." He hadn't meant to say it aloud. No one was around to hear it, at least. But it only emphasized how little control he had over this situation. Staring at the picture, at Hideo's body and that grin on his face, he felt himself getting hard, his blood warming throughout.

Tyler shook his head of those thoughts and quickly got to changing out of his ring gear. Hideo was clearly just trying to fuck with him – throw off his game. And it was a sad and pathetic attempt! It would never work on one such as Tyler Breeze.

Which is why he felt no need to delete it just yet. Why let him win? It wouldn't bother him in the least to have it just sitting in his phone. Some flavor-of-the-month uggo kicking weirdo who happened to look like he was trying to seduce him.

Well if he thought that would work, he was ugly _and_ stupid.

Tyler arrived at his apartment and immediately unzipped his jeans, locking the door behind him and collapsing into the couch cushions. His cock was out within seconds, becoming rock hard under his pumping fist. He let out a small sigh and let his head relax against the cushions as he rubbed himself off in the dark of the living room.

It wasn't because of _Hideo_ or anything. Not really. Not because he thought he was attractive or because leaving a sexy picture on his phone was sort of a bold move that he found sexy. Nothing like that. It's just... he could see that Hideo had a penis in that picture, and well... so did Tyler. He was reminded he had one. So why not treat himself?

That was it, nothing more.

And in no way did Tyler open up the photo app on his phone with his free hand, panting lightly as the tension built up between his thighs. He absolutely did not flip to that picture of Hideo in the locker room and feel a thrill skitter up his spine upon seeing it.

No fucking way was Tyler masturbating to a photo of Hideo's package. Not in the least.

And for no reason whatsoever, the image of Hideo's disdainful smirk popped into his head. The look that he gave him from across the ring in the middle of their match.

The one that totally had nothing to do with the fact that he was coming all over his t-shirt as soon as he thought of it.

Tyler looked down at himself with disgust. He usually wasn't this careless or messy, especially when it came to his carefully-selected wardrobe. He scoffed and pulled it over his head, using the dry portion to wipe his hand clean. Walking to his bathroom he tossed the shirt into his laundry hamper and caught sight of himself in the mirror. His cheeks flushed and his mouth panting, his eyebrows quirked with frustration.

"God!" he huffed at himself, stomping away. "Look what he made me do!"

On the one hand he hoped that he wouldn't run into Hideo alone the next week. Because then he'd have to confront the fact that this arrogant bastard had successfully turned him on the point where he couldn't even keep his hands off of himself. On the other hand, that just couldn't stand! He absolutely could not let Hideo get away with it.

It was for both of those reasons that he nearly stepped right back out of the locker room when he found Hideo in there alone in nothing but a towel, his dark hair still wet and dripping. Apparently the both of them had both been unbelievably early that day.

"Lucky me," Tyler muttered as he steeled himself and strode forward, dropping his bag on the bench.

Hideo barely deigned to look up from drying his hair with a hand towel as Tyler walked right up to him, his phone in hand and the offending photo already pulled up. He shoved the phone forward, making sure Hideo was actually staring at it before speaking.

"What exactly was _this_?" he accused, becoming even more annoyed now that Hideo was staring at him nonplussed. "Were you trying to mess with me, Mr. International Sensation? Was this some pathetic attempt to throw me off so you could get one over on me in our next match? _Or_ , was it some sort of bribe, like I'd let you win next time if you showed off the goods? Hm?" He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and crossed his arms, waiting for a response.

"Neither." He said it so plainly, so simply. As if everything were obvious. And he was looking at Tyler like _he_ was the crazy one in this situation. 

"What?" Tyler laughed. This was becoming more ridiculous with every moment, he could barely believe it. "What, were you trying to seduce me or something?"

"Yes." Hideo let the hand towel fall from his head to land on the bench, giving Tyler the most ridiculously earnest expression he'd ever seen. Like he'd said it plainly to him instead of leaving some fucked-up clue on his phone.

"Oh." That was all he could muster for a few moments as he stared blankly at Hideo's unmoving demeanor. He remembered himself quickly, though, and snarled, "Well it didn't work!"

"Really?" Hideo chuckled at him, leaning slightly toward him. "I think it did."

"Well you're _wrong_."

"Your face is very red," he pointed out with a grin.

"Yes," Tyler hotly agreed without even thinking about it. "Because I'm _angry_. How do you think it made me feel, finding this... SMUT? Notwithstanding you stole my phone from me to put it there!"

"I was hoping it would turn you on." Hideo shrugged, clearly only pretending to think it was a futile effort. He could probably spot Tyler's erection from a mile away, even before he realized he had one. "The way you look at me in the ring... I thought, maybe more than just the will to win in your eyes."

"Well there wasn't!" Tyler turned away, hoping to hide his arousal. God damn this man for looking this good in just a towel. "So let's just skip to the part where you apologize to me and we can forget this whole thing ever happened."

"I don't think so."

Tyler whirled back around, ready to do a lot more yelling, but his bravado died with his throat as he found Hideo had let the towel fall from his hips to the floor.

Hideo leaned against the lockers and snickered at Tyler's wide-eyed reaction. "I thought it will be more fun this way. How about, skip to the part where you come with me to the shower?"

"If you think-!" Tyler bit his lower lip. "I am not-!" He wrung his hands together. "You-..." His hands fell to his sides and he gave flustered sigh.

"Yes, Tyler?"

"God, you suck. Just get in the shower already." He could hardly believe it was coming out of his own beautiful mouth, but there it was.

"I don't suck, Tyler. That will be _your_ job." Hideo smirked and shrugged, padding lightly over to the stalls without even a single look back.

"I hate you," Tyler muttered, stripping his shirt off and following close behind.

He found Hideo leaning casually against the shower wall, his legs spread just slightly apart, fondling himself as he waited for Tyler. Everything in Tyler's logical brain was screaming at him, asking him what in the hell he thought he was doing, going in and fooling around with his opponent. The enemy. But the animal part of his brain was hungering for this contact with Hideo. The desire was eating at him from the inside out. Maybe it had been there longer than he thought.

Still. Tyler could barely stand the fact that he was doing this. So much so that he approached Hideo in a few stomping steps and slammed both hands against the wall on both sides, trapping Hideo between them. And a bit of rage twisted in his stomach as his companion started snickering uncontrollably at this act, covering his mouth.

"What? What is it now?" Tyler growled.

" _Betsuni_ ," Hideo cleared his throat and repeated, "N-Nothing, just... It's funny. Like you really know what you're doing."

"Shut up, for fuck's sake," he grumbled at the floor.

In response, Hideo took Tyler in his arms and pulled his mouth crashing into his. The heat between them was already becoming incredible. Tyler had no idea it could have felt this nice to have his lips pressing against Hideo's, their tongues meeting in the middle, so much so that he couldn't contain the little moans that bubbled up from his stomach.

Hideo let out a moan as well, more of a snickering sound that morphed into a groan of pleasure as his bare crotch pressed against Tyler's thigh. He could feel it hardening, pulsing against him, which only increased how hard he was.

Once they separated, Tyler's vision fogged over from heat, Hideo stroked both sides of Tyler's face with his strong hands.

"Let's put that gorgeous mouth to work, _ne_?" Hideo glanced downward and then back up into Tyler's eyes.

"Fine," Tyler sighed. His sass was growing weaker with every moment he spent with this man. He dropped to his knees where he stood, the cold tile sinking quickly into his skin. Hideo was already at attention, as ready as one could ever be.

And Tyler was... well, he was as ready as _he_ could ever be.

He leaned into Hideo, let his head rest against his stomach, let his mouth hang open and his tongue fall out. He laid his hands against Hideo's thighs for stability and took a deep breath. He took Hideo into his mouth, let himself moan into him. Took him in as deeply as he could and swirled his tongue against the shaft.

Hideo pressed a hand on the back of Tyler's head to stroke his hair, gently moaning in response to the sensation. His hips rocked forward to meet everyone of Tyler's movements.

"Ohh, good," he exhaled. "I wanna see you touch yourself, too, okay?"

Well Tyler was in no position to negotiate, was he? He was already here, sucking off this man he claimed to despise just a few days earlier, hard as hell, aching for his own pleasure. His mouth still working hard at Hideo's cock, he unzipped his pants and snuck a hand into his boxers.

No going back now.

Tyler furiously pulled himself off as he sucked at Hideos' dick even harder, small whines escaping his throat. That seemed only to spur him on. His hips thrust quicker into Tyler's mouth, his fingers pressed against his scalp. Small words of encouragement flung from his lips – at least, Tyler thought so. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his own pleasure.

"Ooh," Hideo gasped. "G-God, Tyler..."

The sound of his own name moaned in Hideo's voice echoed in his ears. That was far too much for him. Almost without warning, Tyler felt himself peak, his whole body convulsing under his hand. His pleasure shot out with a shuddering gasp that resonated throughout the locker room. He felt it land hot against his fingers and stomach.

That seemed to do it for Hideo, as well. Tyler felt a tap on his shoulder as he felt his cock pulsing in his mouth. With one last long and hard lick against his length, Tyler pulled back just a bit, ready to swallow him down.

Instead, Hideo pulled himself out of Tyler's mouth and hissed in a deep breath, rubbing himself to completion. His orgasm pumped out and splashed onto Tyler's hair, dripping down his forehead and onto his lips.

He sat there, somewhat dazed from orgasm. And/or from the situation he'd just put himself in. He came into the locker room intending to berate Hideo or at least wrestle an apology from him. And now he sat on his knees, covered in his semen.

He wanted to growl and spit and throw punches. But that would ruin the moment. A rather nice one, Hideo's hand stroking the back of his head and sighing happily.

Hideo's thumb came to rest on Tyler's lips, spreading his release against them. Almost outside of his control, Tyler took his thumb into his mouth and licked it clean. At that, Hideo let out a laugh.

"You like that, Tyler?"

Tyler let out a gruff sigh and looked off. "I... guess. It was all right."

"You were great," Hideo told him.

Tyler almost felt his heart swelling at the compliment, but swallowed it down along with the saltiness he'd licked off of Hideo's thumb.

"Clean yourself up," he went on, stepping past him. "You look such a mess."

The sound of his snickering echoed in Tyler's ears. Instead of the usual response – twisting, ugly rage – Tyler shook his head and laughed, too.


End file.
